Far above—at the top of the ruined skyscraper they'd just left behind—leaves shifted.
Clawed feet scraped against broken concrete.
From the shadows of the jungle canopy, they emerged.
First one. Then five. Then dozens.
A pack. Forty strong.
Beasts double the size of bulls, their skin mottled like diseased leather, a grotesque blend of lizard and hound—elongated jaws, hunched limbs, and tails tipped with bone spurs. Their eyes burned faint green. Their jaws twitched—like they remembered the scent of blood.
These were the same monsters Ethan had tangled with before.
But now?
They weren't alone.
Behind them stepped one twice their size. Its back scraped against rusted steel. Its arms rippled with muscle and protruding bone. Its head was crowned with gnarled horns like a beast that had survived a thousand hunts and never been slain.
Its growl rolled through the wind like thunder caught in its throat.
It sniffed the air.
And it turned.
Downward.
Toward the jungle.
Toward them.
At its side were three of the escaped beasts from before, trailing behind with lips curled in twisted satisfaction.
They had led it here.
----
They moved deeper into the overgrown terrain, the jungle shifting from dense ruins to lush wilds. The air buzzed with unseen insects and strange birdsong, and shafts of sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above like god rays from a broken cathedral.
But it wasn't all danger.
Around them, new life stirred—wild creatures unlike anything back on Earth.
They passed what looked like horned raccoons the size of melons, waddling between fallen branches and chirping like tiny goats. Some had too many eyes. Others glowed faintly in the shadows. One small, bat-like creature stared at them upside down with a smile full of teeth, then flew away like a shadow with wings.
"They're… oddly cute," Ethan whispered.
Dianna chuckled. "Cute until they bite your face off."
But the beasts ignored them. Simply acknowledged their presence—then continued on, as if travelers like them were just another part of the jungle's rhythm.
It felt strangely peaceful.
Until Dianna stopped.
Hand raised.
Her other arm extended, signaling them to get down.
The trio dropped low into the underbrush, silent, breaths shallow.
Ahead, just beyond a collapsed pillar of concrete and steel, a group moved. Encamped.
Not humans.
Humanoid—yes—but… different.
Ten feet tall at least, their bodies muscular, their skin varying in tone from ash gray to deep bronze. Each of them had elongated limbs, long curved fangs that jutted from their lower jaws, and two prominent horns arching from their skulls in varied patterns—some forward like rams, others back like a crown.
They wore armor—patched and scarred, but functional. Not scraps or tribal rags—true battle-worn equipment. Cloths with intricate stitch patterns, leather reinforced with bone and metal. Some bore tattoos or glowing marks across their exposed skin.
And they were… talking.
Conversing casually around a large stone pit where thick cuts of meat sizzled over a low flame. The scent wafted through the air—rich, seasoned, mouthwatering. Aromatics they'd never smelled before filled the clearing: smoky, spiced, and just salty enough to sting the nose.
Two whole beasts—something massive and lizard-like—were skewered and propped up against a collapsed wall, prepared and ready for roasting.
Ethan's stomach growled audibly.
Dianna elbowed him.
Sid, crouched beside them, observed in silence. His eyes narrowed, focused.
"They're not human," Ethan whispered. "Right?"
"No," Sid answered softly. "Not by Earth standards. But… look at how they move. How they talk. They're organized. Military structure, maybe. Veterans."
Dianna tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Are we sure they're not speaking our language?"
Ethan blinked. He hadn't noticed it at first—but now that she mentioned it… he could understand them.
The words weren't English, but they felt familiar. As if some unseen translator was working in real time.
One of the tall warriors barked a laugh, tossing a bone into a fire pit.
The others responded—some with cheers, some shaking their heads. They were joking. Relaxed. Not savages—just people.
Big, scary, horned people.
And then the air shifted.
Heavy footsteps approached from deeper in the ruin, causing the others to rise respectfully. Even the loudest of them fell quiet.
From the shadows came a giant.
Twelve feet tall. Massive blade resting across his back—primitive in shape but etched with runes and dried blood. His horns were long and intimidating, and his armor was adorned with beads, feathers, and gleaming metal plates.
He wore a cloak—more ornate than the others—and bore the air of someone who commanded respect without asking for it.
The smaller warriors bowed or lowered their heads.
Their leader had arrived.
Ethan leaned in closer, whispering. "He looks like a warlord."
Dianna's eyes narrowed. "He looks like someone who could snap a tree in half with his pinky."
Sid, however, remained calm, studying the patterns on the blade, the way the others responded. His voice was soft. "That's their leader, no doubt. Maybe even a chief. Look at the markings—ritualistic. And they didn't kneel. Just… honored him. That says a lot."
"What are they?" Ethan asked. "I mean—besides terrifying."
"No idea," Sid murmured. "But they cook better than anything I've smelled since we got here."
As if on cue, Dianna's stomach growled.
Ethan gave her a side-eye. "Thought you were a battle-hardened warrior."
"I am," she hissed. "A hungry one."
They stayed in the brush, still hidden, watching these massive beings joke, eat, and carry on like people around a campfire. For a moment, it was surreal. Otherworldly.
But also—undeniably human.
Ethan whispered, "So… do we talk to them? Or just… steal a drumstick and run?"
Sid didn't answer.
His gaze remained locked on the warlord—who, for just a brief second, turned.
And looked directly at them.
Not through them.
At them.
Ethan froze.
Dianna's smirk vanished.
Sid's breath hitched ever so slightly.
And the warlord's lips curved into something faint—almost a smile.